


keep walking

by Shykino



Series: Survivors in the Quiet Apocalypse [1]
Category: The Long Dark (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, im really emo about the long dark okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:08:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22144651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shykino/pseuds/Shykino
Summary: this isn't what she expected when she came out to great bear.
Series: Survivors in the Quiet Apocalypse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1593883
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	keep walking

**Author's Note:**

> short lil ficlet of my gorl melody, making her way through the quiet apocalypse

she walks while she sips her water. it's so cold it almost burns and she can clearly feel it travel down her throat and settle in her stomach. her eyes constantly sweep the snow covered hills for any wolves. her other hand nervously grips her bow and she rubs her thumb into the familiar grooves. she can't feel the texture through the thick gloves on her hands, but it helps soothe her anyways.

her breath condenses as it passes over chapped lips and lingers in a thick white cloud as the snow crunches underfoot, her steps even and steady. her boots sink in, ankle deep in places, and she moves slow to avoid injury.

the wind is calm at the moment, the highest bare branches of the deciduous trees rattling gently in the breeze, like strange wind chimes. there may not be any wind at the moment, but the biting cold is always present, and she's thankful for the warm clothing she has.

she's very thankful for her scarf, which she pulls back up over her face, leaving only her eyes peering out into the quiet, frozen world shes found herself living in.

she slides one arm from the strap of her backpack and returns the chilled bottle to a fastened side pocket, the water inside sounding more like a slushie than the water she had boiled over a barrel mere hours ago. she settles the bag back against her shoulder blades and sighs into her scarf, the hot breath warming her face momentarily before the cold rushes back in.

a bolt of fear seizes her spine as she hears wolves howling, communicating, and holds her bow tighter. a pack, she realizes, and thanks every deity she knows that they sound very faint and far off. she reaches back and draws an arrow from the opening at the top of her backpack. she nocks it, rests the shaft on the shelf she had scored out with her knife, so many weeks back.

she keeps her hands ready and her eyes open.

she keeps walking.


End file.
